Germany's Diary
by ShariLove
Summary: Italy finds and reads Germany's diary in hopes of learning more about his friend. Germany x Italy :  Lots of fluff. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**It's getting late and I'm super tired, but…I've been re-watching Hetalia and GerIta fanfictions have been floating in my head all day! I can't help but write at least one down. Especially when Harley promises me she'll post more if I do **** I expect at least a chapter from her.**

_Dear diary,_

_Today I drilled Japan and Italy on what I have been teaching them. Japan seems to be understanding, at least. Italy, however, is too far gone. When I was teaching them about the importance of uniform, Italy ran off with a dog. Japan and I could not find him, so we resumed training until he called me to inform me that his shoe was untied and he could not tie it himself._

_ Sometimes I doubt that he is the true heir of the great Roman Empire. He is irritating, spacey, and has no sense of authority or direction, but I still can't help but lo-_

"Germany!" Italy's voice rang shrilly through the room, disrupting Germany's thoughts and halting his pen. "Ne? Germany, what's that?"

Italy made to grab Germany's diary, but the blonde stood and held it out of his reach before his fingers could graze the smooth leather binding.

"Nothing!" Germany's face burned immediately. He sighed. "It's nothing."

"Then why can't I see it?" Italy jumped, arms outstretched, but he was far too short. Germany held the book out of his reach with ease. "Germanyyyyy!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be eating pasta or sleeping or something?"

Italy perked up immediately at the suggestion.

"Ne? Really, Germany?" He smiled sluggishly, "You want to eat pasta and sleep with me?"

"What?" Germany spluttered, nearly dropping the book. "I didn't say tha-,"

Germany's stomach gurgled as though calling a bluff.

Italy grabbed his arm then and pulled, "Let's go!"

Though he could have resisted, Germany tossed his diary backward onto his bed neatly and allowed the Italian to pull him forward. It was a welcome distraction, he supposed.

Italy led Germany to the taller man's kitchen and let go of his arm, which Germany withdrew quickly with a deep blush that went altogether unnoticed. Italy hovered, pixie-like, through the cupboards, pulling out all familiar ingredients as Germany watched with focused eyes.

"Germany!" Italy called as he cooked.

"Y-yes?" Germany's head snapped up and he stood at attention.

Italy smiled. "I saw a butterfly today."

"That's…nice." Germany breathed.

"Ne~" Italy blinked. "Pasta's ready!"

The two sat and ate in semi-silence. Italy rambled on and on about various things he had seen and heard throughout the day as Germany broiled in embarrassment. He was ashamed at himself that Italy had seen him writing in his diary. It was such a private thing, that diary. If ever the Italian read it…Germany couldn't imagine what he would do then. His mind escaped to places he might hide the thing now that Italy had seen it. Perhaps he would hide it under the bed.

_No. Italy would find it when there was a lightning storm. He always hid under the bed until the thunder stopped or Germany agreed to sleep next to him._

On the top shelf of the closet, perhaps?

_That wouldn't work. Italy was always running into things and knocking things down. He'd knock it down and read it._

Okay…Maybe with his toiletries?

_Italy was always borrowing his things… He was so careless of the property of others._

"Germany? Germanyyyyy? Ne? Are you in there?" Italy poked at Germany's arm with a fork, finally catching a rise out of the man.

"What? Oh. Yes, Italy?" Germany blinked and pushed all thoughts of the diary aside. It could wait until later as long as Italy was predisposed.

"I'm tired." Italy yawned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Germany nodded briskly. "I'll go make your bed."

Italy stood, leaving his dirty dish on the table, and made his way past Germany. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "There'll be no need."  
>"What do you mean?" Germany raised an eyebrow.<p>

Italy grinned. "I'm sleeping with you tonight."

Italy walked slowly toward Germany's bedroom, leaving Germany in horror at the Italian's messiness, his suddenness, and the diary he would find lying in the open on Germany's bed.

"Wait!" Germany leapt to his feet and grabbed the dishes, rushing to throw them in the sink.

Italy ignored Germany's plea and kept his grazing pace toward the bedroom. Germany looked at the dishes he'd discarded in the sink for a moment and finally gave in to his own need for cleanliness.

"Italy, wait!" He cried out as he scrubbed the dishes hurriedly.

He left them perfect and glinting and surrounded by mounds of soap.

"Italy!" He called out as he ran toward his room. "Don't read it!"

Every corner of Germany's house seemed like a mile as he ran forward, hoping and praying to himself that the Italian didn't open the little leather book on his bed.

Finally, he rounded the corner that led him to his room. Germany threw his door open and erupted inside. Italy sat on his bed next to the leather book with a mixed look of innocence and contentedness plastered across his face.

"Don't read what?" He asked.

Germany let out the breath he had held in his lungs.

"Nothing, Italy. Let's sleep." Germany smiled and released all fears of the diary.

_Of course Italy wouldn't read it! He'd forgotten about it._

Just to be sure that Italy didn't read it, Germany scooped the book up and shoved it in a drawer beside the bed.

He turned around to an already-nude Italy already under the covers. A relaxed smile lingered on Italy's lips as he fell asleep. Germany quickly followed suit, turning off all lights and sliding underneath the covers beside his friend.

"_Gut Nacht, Italia._"


	2. Chapter 2

**oOo**

"No…that tastes like shit…" Italy rolled over where he slept, disentangling himself from the covers that held him to the bed. "Woah! You're pretty…"

"Wahh!" Italy awoke with a jolt.

He opened his eyes and looked around. The world seemed shorter. Quickly, he checked his vitals and sat up, coming level with the bed he'd rolled out of.

"Ne…" Italy grunted, standing. He watched the bed.

Germany was fast asleep. He was cocooned in a dark comforter, which rose and fell as he breathed. His hair, unkempt in sleep, fell back on the pillow, framing his stoic features.

Italy smiled.

"I want to draw Germany…" He murmured, blinking away particles of sleep that clung to his eyes. "I wonder if Germany has paper."

Absentmindedly, Italy made his way to the drawer beside Germany's bed. He pulled it open and rummaged through it silently, finding nothing but the erotic magazines Germany had received from Santa that year and a leather-bound book. Hoping it was a sketchbook, Italy pulled out the leather-bound diary.

He opened the book there and peered inside, surprised to find Germany's perfect handwriting on every page.

"This is…Germany's diary?" Italy whispered to himself.

His face brightened immediately.

_I'll learn all about Germany and he'll be my friend forever!_

Italy turned to a random page in the book and began reading.

_Dear diary,_

_Today has been weird for me. Italy has been in his own little world as normal, but something he said made me stop and think. He called me his 'friend'. It made me wonder. What does it mean, to be someone's friend? Is Italy my only friend? Is that why I feel so warm and happy when he's around? I might even be a little bit jealous of others who speak to him. Am I his only friend, as he is mine? Or is it a title he throws out randomly to those who save him or tie his shoelaces for him? It's depressing to think that I might be nothing to him._

_ Sincerely, Germany_

"Ne?" Italy blinked. "I mean that much to him?"

Disbelieving, Italy shook his head and turned a few pages until he found a particularly hasty-looking scrawl. He read it.

_Dear diary,_

_ What is Italy to me? Why does my heart beat so frantically when he says my name? Japan's been noticing it, too. He asked me why I allow Italy into so many embarrassing and personal areas of my life. I couldn't answer him. All I could think was, "Because I love it." Or "Because I love him.". Do I love him as a friend, or possibly more? I don't know any more. He's my only friend, and yet I've never felt this way before. Is this right? He is my comrade, after all. I don't get it any more! What defines love? I wish I had a definite answer for that._

_ I guess I'll just continue as I am. Italy doesn't seem to be catching on. It hurts, though, knowing that I can't discuss this with him. It would only push him away from me._

_ Sincerely, Germany_

Several tears had made their way down Italy's cheeks before he noticed he was crying. He stared at the diary in his hands, not sure how to react to what Germany had written. His hands shook and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt…serious. And silly, all at once. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, but his stomach felt like it was made of steel.

Italy turned and gazed at Germany's sleeping form. The man never looked so peaceful as when he was asleep. He was even…handsome. Italy smiled. He knew this feeling. It arose every time Germany said his name or held his hand or tied his shoelaces.

"_Sono innamorato, Doitsu_." Italy whispered. "I'm in love with you."

Italy returned his gaze to the book in his hands. An idea appeared in his mind suddenly and he stood, smiling blissfully. The Italian rummaged through Germany's room until he found exactly what he wanted: a pen.

**oOo**

**Hahaha, so my writing mojo has disappeared this summer. I'm having a bit of difficulty pushing stuff out and making it sound good. So for now I'm saying "Screw it, it doesn't have to sound good. I just need to write!". And it's working for me xD **

**So—next chapter will be out later today. I can't help but write this **** I love Germany and Italy.**


	3. Chapter 3

Italy pressed pen to paper and began working on the project that had appeared in his mind. Germany slept beside him, fully unaware of his friend's doings. The Italian worked tirelessly by the rays of sunlight that had begun filtering through the room's single window.

The sun's rays crawled slowly through the room, eventually reaching Germany's face. The blonde man groaned and turned over, but could not avoid waking up. Eventually, he let out a deep yawn and opened his eyes.

"ITALY!" He threw himself out of bed and stared hopelessly at Italy. "What are you doing?"  
>Italy smiled and put his pen down, closing the diary. "Good morning, Germany!~"<p>

Germany blinked. His heart pounded relentlessly in his chest.

"Italy, did you…" He choked, "Did you read it?" He nodded in the direction of the diary.

Italy stood and handed Germany the diary silently, holding back a smirk all the while. Without a word, the Italian left Germany's room to get dressed. As soon as he rounded the corner, out of Germany's sight, he grinned from ear to ear.

_He's going to love it!_

Germany gazed at the book forlornly. He dared not open it and reread his words; the words Italy surely had read. The words that would surely tear the two apart and leave Germany wondering why he had written them in the first place.

Germany gulped and traced Italy's path of exodus with his eyes. Italy was out of sight now, but his presence still lingered somehow. Maybe it was the distinct, sunny smell the Italian brought with him everywhere he went. Or perhaps it was his languid attitude, which seemed to settle wherever he brought it. Germany closed his eyes. Anger flowed through his veins.

_Why did I write those things? He'll hate me now. He's my only friend and I've pushed him away!_

Through tears driven by the reins of anger, Germany opened his diary and glared at the page he landed on.

His glare was soon transformed into a look of pure confusion.

"What?" He gasped, turning page after page of the diary and staring, transfixed, at each page.

_Dear Germany's diary,_

_ Hi! This is Italy. Germany wrote a lot of nice things about me, so you know who I am. Sometimes Germany is scary because he's so big and doesn't smile very much, but he's really a nice guy! He helps me out a lot, sometimes when I don't even ask for help! He knows me better than anyone else. I have a few friends, but he's my best friend. If it weren't for Germany, my shoes would be untied and I'd be very sad. I'm so happy that Germany and I are friends! And that he eats pasta with me and sleeps with me and writes nice things about me. Germany's the best!_

_ ~Italy_

A smile found its way to Germany's lips. Through teary eyes, he turned page after page, reading Italy's entries. Certain words caught him off guard. Certain words forced the tears down his cheeks. And certain words made his heart pound so loudly, he thought the entire world would hear it.

_Germany is my best friend._

_ I love being with Germany._

_ Germany makes my heart dance._

_ I sometimes feel like there are butterflies in my tummy when I talk to Germany._

_ I really like Germany._

_ I think I love Germany._

_ I love Germany!_

_ Sono innamorato, Germany._

_ I need Germany._

Germany eventually made his way to the final page in his diary where his initial entry was finished in the Italian's lazy scrawl.

_Sometimes I doubt that he is the true heir of the great Roman Empire. He is irritating, spacey, and has no sense of authority or direction, but I still can't help but lo-_

_VE HIM! And Italy loves me back! Because he's irritating and spacey and has no sense of authority but Germany has all of those things for him. Because Germany completes Italy._

Germany's smile widened and he brushed away his tears. "Italy," He whispered to himself. "_Ich liebe dich._"

"_Ti amo_, Germany!" Italy's head popped up in the doorway. He had the widest grin Germany had ever seen on his face.

**And that's it xD I couldn't think of a better way to end it, sorry guys. Oh, well **** Now I can go back to watching Hetalia in peace and not worrying about writing a fanfic! Until later, of course. I'll write plenty of them. I'm in that mood again xD**

**Please leave a review! It shows me you love me **** Or that you love Germany and Italy. Words mean a lot! Obviously, if you read this fic~ ;)**


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